


Moonlight

by Snabulous



Category: V for Vendetta (2005)
Genre: Bad descriptions of good songs, Claude Debussy - Freeform, F/M, Ludwig van Beethoven - Freeform, V fangirls about Debussy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 23:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10203356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snabulous/pseuds/Snabulous
Summary: In the Shadow Gallery there is a grand piano, and V is nothing if not a master.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title refers to Beethoven's "Moonlight" Sonata.

A black pair of leather gloves sat to the side. Unusually bare fingers danced across ivory and ebony keys. Gloves restrict one's movements when playing most instruments, particularly the piano, so, for this reason, V's hands were naked as they caressed verses out of the great beast of a piano before him. It had been a long time since he had played anything at all, but he did not stumble, for he knew the song well. 

V expertly followed the tempo as the notes flowed up and down and up again, legato and slow. He leaned forward as the dynamics rose slowly from _piano_ to _forte_ , then relaxed as they glided back to _piano_. He sped up and slowed down with the rising and falling but remaining light and airy throughout. His dark head nodded rhythmically, keeping the time. In the pauses, he sighed softly, letting out the breaths he held subconsciously. He lingered on certain notes, drawing them out with skillful use of the pedals. With the movement of the song, he could see the sunshine and feel the gentle breeze the notes gave his imagination. He was an expressive player, and he was not afraid to show it.

The final notes dropped like rain. A second of silence passed. Then a voice spoke up from the doorway.

"V," Evey said, announcing her presence quietly, almost timidly. 

V turned his head to look at the woman behind him, fingers still on the keys. "Evey."

"I've never heard that one before," Evey continued. "What was it called?"

""The Girl with the Flaxen Hair" by Claude Debussy," he answered, rotating on the piano bench to face Evey. "It is one of my more personal favorites." 

"It was beautiful." With a step closer, Evey felt a certain energy surrounding V and the piano. It was different than when he played music on the Wurlitzer. Perhaps it was the act of creating music instead of merely listening to it. 

"Isn't it, though?" V began ardently, suddenly gaining an excited tone. "Could you not _feel_ the sunshine, the air, the grass beneath your feet? Was this song not the same as standing in an open field on a cloudless day, the wind blowing softly on your face?" Unknown to Evey, he was grinning wide enough to mirror his mask. 

Evey smiled and moved a closer, drawn in by his energy. "Yes, it was," she agreed. Then, after a moment, she said thoughtfully, "Though, I can't remember the last time I saw an open field or a meadow or anything of that sort."

V turned back to face the piano. "Nor can I." It was in that moment that V realized that his pink-scarred hands were still uncovered. He reached for his gloves but Evey stopped him by hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder.

"V," she began, "What other songs do you know?"

Holding his gloves in his hand, V looked up at her. "I know many songs, but I cannot think of any that you would recognize."

She was quiet for a moment. Then, she tilted her head and smiled. "Would you play something for me?"

V nodded obligingly. "Of course." He moved over on the bench to make room for her. Their shoulders brushed as she sat down next to him. Neither acknowledged the warmth the other gave off, but they were aware of it in varying amounts. 

"Would you prefer classical or would you rather have something a little more modern?" V asked, setting his hand over the middle C and playing the chord almost too quietly to hear.

"Classical," she replied, reaching forward and tapping the highest key. It made a very soft _plink_. "Play something you love."

"As you wish," he answered meaningfully.

He set his gloves aside once more and set his fingers delicately on the keys. The bouncing first notes of Beethoven's "Hammerklavier" jumped from the depths of the piano as the sonata began. The first few refrains were light and innocent, like a gentle rain. And then, it changed to a more intense, rumbling thunderstorm, penetrated by remnants of the pattering rain from before. Here, V leaned forward, crossing in front of Evey to reach the higher keys, his arm brushing against her chest. Then the thunderstorm was over, and he replaced it with a quick succession of springy notes that lowered and lowered and lowered to very deep ones that somehow retained their springiness. He lingered in the _piano_ deepness for only a moment before he swept across almost the entire keyboard with a rather impressive flourish, starting at the low part and ending at the high. Evey to had to lean back to avoid being hit but it also made her laugh, which was nothing if not his purpose in doing so. He intentionally delayed for half a second, then began again, reinvigorated, playing a rapid back and forth of two notes. And then he paused, holding the rest out much longer than necessary, for dramatic purposes, of course, his spine drawn up like a bow. Then he sprung back into action; his fingers flashed like lightning across the keys and he began playing rain again, like he had in the beginning. He continued with the rain until it grew stronger, went down, and up back again. After a slight momentary pause, he began a calling back and forth of soft, strong, soft, strong, soft... The music tapered off to a quiet heartbeat, but then suddenly exploded into an intense cacophony on the keys that lasted only a split second. Then it was back to a few measures of bouncing rain on a river, and it was over before Evey knew it.

V's chest rose slightly faster as he turned to the woman sitting next to him. "What did you think of it?" he asked, noticing a grin on her face.

"It was lovely, V," she answered earnestly, leaning forward for emphasis. "I don't remember the last time I enjoyed a song so much." She was entirely sincere. She loved the way he played, the way he made pictures with the melodies and choruses, the way he gave every note a meaning.

"Good, good," he replied, pleased by her approval. He tried his best not to preen. "I am glad you enjoyed it. It's been a long time since I've played that song." He thought for a moment of what to perform next. Then, "Perhaps you shall recognize this next one. It is also Beethoven."

His hands returned to the ivory keys. He brought his fingers down and began to play in a minor key, gently, quietly, like a night sky, three eighth notes that rose and fell the same way for a few measures, backed only by an almost inaudible whole note. Then, like a careful breeze in the evening air, a new melody began to play above the three notes. It rose up and down the scale with a sort of muted type of expression, like clouds covering the moon and stars but still being able to see their light. The trio of eighth notes and the melody moved together gracefully, if not somberly, in a passionately subdued dance. V played the moonlight, and in his mind, he could imagine it caressing his face like it had not done in many years.

Evey stared at V's hands as he played. She watched the burned, sinewy digits weave a song and show her the night sky. She was entranced. V could sense her eyes on his hands, but, strangely, he did not feel the urge to cover them as he had before. 

As V played on, Evey allowed herself to be moved by the music, submerged in the sound. It filled her like a breath, giving her life. She felt every change in dynamics, every crescendo and decrescendo, every _piano_ and _forte_ , every step, jump, and leap. It was enticing and exciting, seductive and beautiful, romantic and eloquent, and she felt an inexplicable feeling similar to exhilaration overcome her. Tears prickled in her eyes, but she was not entirely sure why. 

The both of them swayed gently to the tempo as V continued to his cadence. The trio of notes, lasting throughout the whole piece, were steadfast, bright like the stars. The melody was the moon. A group of slow, steady chords led them to the end, and then, after they faded out, there was absolute silence. 

Neither of them spoke for a long while, fearing words would end their moment of peace and tranquility. They were frozen in a single second, it seemed, and neither were eager to end it. But then Evey let out the breath she had been holding but could no longer contain, and time began to move again. 

V looked at her while she remained facing forward. He studied her jaw, the silhouette of her nose, the curl of her hair against her cheekbones. She glanced at him, then turned, a smile blossoming across her face. "That was beautiful," she whispered.

"Beethoven's "Moonlight" Sonata," V murmured, his voice as soft as _pianissimo_. Evey remained still, contemplative. Through the eyes of his mask, he watched her lips, though they did not move. In the heavy silence, he began to wonder if he wanted to kiss her. Of course, he realized that he would not do it either way, but whether he _wanted_ to, he truly did not know.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very good at describing music, as you probably could tell. Haha, oh well.  
> The three songs V plays are as follows, in the order of appearance, along with YouTube links to my favorite versions of them:  
> 1\. "The Girl with the Flaxen Hair" by Claude Debussy (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOxJpPiFe0k)  
> 2\. "Hammerklavier" by Ludwig Van Beethoven (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-zWYfYqhncE)  
> 3\. "Moonlight" by Ludwig Van Beethoven (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6gDdnELgpM)
> 
> In the last paragraph, the lines "In the heavy silence, he began to wonder if he wanted to kiss her. Of course, he realized that he could not, would not do it either way, but if he _wanted_ to, he truly did not know" were inspired by a couple lines written by Neil Gaiman. ("He wondered if he should kiss her. He wondered if he wanted to kiss her, and he realised that he truly did not know." ("Neverwhere", page 213).)  
>  And did you catch the "The Princess Bride" reference because I definitely made one (I'm trash™ ik ik)?


End file.
